sizzling across your skin
by blue and gold
Summary: He's that kid who lived down the hall from her; except he isn't a kid anymore. - [vague Raquel / Virgil; Raquel / Kaldur]


_**sizzling across your skin**_

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_Disclaimer: I do __**not**__ own Young Justice._

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She knows him.

He's that kid who lives down the hall from her. Or, did, before she moved out when she got pregnant with Amistad. (The house was crowded enough without her and a baby around, and though her parents would _never_ force her to leave, she knew that it was the best thing to do.)

She hasn't seen him in months; her new apartment is across the city, on the better side of town, near the daycare and Augustus, who babysits for her when she has the occasional patrol that isn't during the daycare's hours.

He's taller than he was before, looking less like a scrawny preteen and more like an adult, though he still has a long way to go. It's kind of weird, really, because her whole life he's been Sharon Hawkins' geeky looking little brother, and suddenly he's this meta-human who are been thrown into the life, too.

It's really weird, because Virgil Hawkins doesn't look like the type of kid who would have superpowers.

Or like the type of kid who would be working for Lex Luthor.

She takes a step forward, more out of habit, because it hasn't quite sunk in that he's her enemy. _(Because he's the kid who lives down the hall, whose voice cracks when he talks, and who loves to skateboard.)_

Big mistake.

He turns on her, quick as a flash (and that's saying something, because she _knows_ the Flash) and around him electricity crackles. The light bulbs above her head flicker and buzz, going dim, and she can feel the hair on the back of her neck stand up. "Who are you?" through the slits in his mask, she can see his eyes, and they're familiar, except they're _not._ It's too dim to make out the rest of his face, which she's kind of glad for, because she doesn't know if she could convincingly carry this through if she could.

"I, " _you know me. You should know me. _"I'm Rocket, I'm a member of the Justice League." And she wants to tell him, to tell him that she's Raquel Ervin and he's Virgil Hawkins and they lived down the hall from each other since they were in diapers. "I don't want to hurt you." But emotions don't mix with work, and the whole point of wearing the mask, the uniform, is to separate _you_ from you. "I'm here to help." She holds her hands up, even though she's not sure he can see them in this lighting.

"That's what Blue Beetle said." Virgil clenches gloved hands; where he got the uniform from is another mystery, but she's putting her money on Luthor, "And he almost got us _killed_. Almost cost innocent people they're _lives_."

She almost winces, because Blue Beetle was _her_ responsibility, all of theirs, yet she failed to notice that the Reach was controlling him. It's a rookie mistake that cost the Team a member, and it's one that they couldn't afford to make. "I'm not like Blue Beetle." Raquel says, "and believe me that…that person you _saw,_ that wasn't the real Blue. I know him. I help _trained_ him." To an extent. "And he…he's not like that. He wouldn't intentionally put his friends in danger, or innocent people."

Virgil shakes head earnestly, and she's reminded of a scrawny kid whose grin took up half of his face. "Tell that to the Star Laboratory that he _demolished." _One of the light bulbs over head buzzes, and then shatters, but she doesn't even flinch because she doesn't want him to freak, and she's been through a _lot_ worse.

"The Reach was _controlling_ him." Just because Blue's an traitor doesn't mean she won't defend him; it wasn't his choice. _(Unlike someone._ But she won't think about _him_ right now because she can't afford to. Can't afford to remember bright eyes and a leader who as more than a leader, so much more, but didn't feel the same way, even though they...) "Manipulating his _mind;_ if he'd been in control, he would've _never_ been so reckless, so _dangerous."_

"Why should I believe _you?"_ he narrows his eyes, thin slits, "Why should I believe someone who I don't _know?"_

It hurts a lot more than it should.

Raquel opens her mouth, tries to come up with some kind of convincing argument for _that,_ but she can't, because he _shouldn't _trust her. He doesn't _know_ her; not Rocket. Not the girl who can block bullets and fly and save people, who's a hero, who shouldn't even be _considering _this, but.

But he does know Raquel Ervin. He does know the girl who lived down the hall, who's friends with his big sister, and who used to walk to the train station with him.

And maybe that's who he needs right now; not even _her,_ really, but something similar. Something like home.

So that's what she'll give him.

"Because," she licks her lips that are cracked and dry, and wonders if she's making the right choice. Surprisingly, she doesn't really care. "You _do_ know me."

_"What..."_ she sees him shake his head, "I don't..."

"Virgil." She lifts her hands up, feels the static in the air crackle wearily, and slowly slides her fingers under the edges of her partial cowl. "It's me." She takes a few bold steps forward, isn't hit by lightning, which she takes as a good sign, and slides the cowl off.

And now she's only three feet away from him.

Raquel can see him more clearly now, the kid who used to live down the hall, only he isn't a kid anymore. His face is a little sharper, a little older, and his eyes hold a certain caution that no one his age should possess. His voice comes out in a whisper, like a kid who's just woken up from a nightmare and isn't quite sure what's real and what isn't, "…_Raquel?_"

She can't think of anything to say, so she just nods.

He reaches a hesitant hand forward, falters, but before he can pull it back she grabs it, holds it loosely.

"It's me, Virgil." Raquel grips his fingers lightly. "It's Raquel."

"I don't..._how..._" He blinks once, twice, repeatedly, and she can feel the electricity crawling along her skin, skittering across her arms. "How are you..._when...?"_

She thinks it's time to be honest, because he deserves it and she doesn't think that she can lie to his face. "Six years ago."

Virgil does a double take, and his hand slips out of hers. _"What?"_

"Six years ago." Raquel repeats, hesitantly, "May, I think. It's a long story." A really long, bizarre story that she doesn't have the strength to tell. Not here. Not now. "But that's not important, right now. What's important is that you trust me, that your friends trust me, so I can get you out of here and get you safe, okay?"

He blinks, and just generally looks shell-shocked. "I..." she can see the war raging in his head. "Okay." He breathes, "okay. I…I think I can do that."

It's not much, but if he tries, and she tries, just maybe it'll work.

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A/N: Since they're both from Dakota City, I just thought... I don't know what I thought. Still, reviews?


End file.
